I am a ceramic vessel. Five finches perch along my rim while the world perches on the edge of madness. More than ever, we need the salve of the introverts, the artists, the songwriters, the poets and the dreamers. 

My worn body is made from a slab of roughly rolled recycled earth, inlaid with shapes of clay stained with colour, folded over itself and punctured with the holes of a million untruths.

Two finches repair my wound, binding me with a leather cord of authentic news and generous hearts, mending and protecting all that is good and precious in our world. 

Outside, a flurry of marks from pressed banksia seeds and the footprints of a rolled banksia seed pod, criss-cross my surface, adding texture and grooves for gold to find. These are the seeds of hope, compassion, innovation and understanding and they scatter as the wind gives them wings.

Inside, my walls are brushed with a light chrome wash and marked with music and words. In here, fortune favours the brave. 

Gold lustred beaks, patchy in places from the rub of the task, shine bright in the collective glow of hearts that speak their truth.

I am a ceramic sculptural vessel. A holder of memories. A keeper of lore. The rest place for Peacemakers.